


homo sapiens haematophagous

by new-kontent (kontent)



Series: June 2019 [8]
Category: MacGyver (TV 2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Vampire, Angst, Blood Drinking, Fake Science, Feeding Kink, Feelings, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Romantic Angst, This Is Not Going To Go The Way You Think, Wet Dream, fake biology
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-08
Updated: 2019-06-10
Packaged: 2020-04-23 18:14:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19156309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kontent/pseuds/new-kontent
Summary: This whole thing is like a Russian doll - it’s problems stacked within problems.Mac would have to tell Jack that he’s in love with him, that he has a weird feeding kink, that he’s been harbouring these feelings foryearsnow, that he feels guilty about letting Jack be turned, but even worse about the fact that he simultaneously is just very, very into it.- aka, five times Mac thinks about Jack biting him + one time he actually does.





	1. i.

**Author's Note:**

> Apparently, I'm not too bad at making up fake biology, so please enjoy the not-quite-vampire-au I wrote.  
> [KatieComma](https://archiveofourown.org/users/KatieComma/pseuds/KatieComma) has listened to me rant about this for weeks now, and she deserves like, a hundred batches of cupcakes for that.  
> You're the best and this story would have never made it this far without you.

_Jack can’t seem to hold his eyes open. Mac tries to call for him, but the words get stuck in his throat. The world around him is hot, the air trembling with heat and sand and dust. It smells like gasoline, and Mac knows he needs to hurry, he needs to get to Jack, now._

_But his feet are stuck on the floor and no matter how much he tries, the words won’t leave his throat. He trashes against the cuffs that he could have sworn were not there before, but it doesn’t help._

_He keeps pulling, tries to slip his hands through the shackles. Jack’s eyelashes flutter and Mac wants to cry with relief. He tries to call his name again, but nothing comes out. Jack gives a soft moan, as if he heard Mac, as if he reacts to his silent cry._

_Mac doesn’t realize he’s torn his wrists open on the shackles until there’s the trickle of wetness on his palm. Looking down, he sees the small trickles of blood. It feels warm and almost nice against his skin, and he watches as the tiny drops roll down his fingers, only to fall and to be swallowed by the hot sand._

_“Mac.” Jack’s voice is low, and so, so close. It sends a shiver down Mac’s spine. When he turns his head, Jack is there. He’s pale, his skin way too light for all the time they spent in the sun these past few days. Something that isn’t fear sinks into Mac’s bones when he sees Jack’s eyes - they are huge, his pupils blown wide. Mac has seen this before - with soldiers high on painkillers._

_Jack looks at him as if he’s never seen him before. Mac suddenly feels Jack’s hands on his shoulders, his fingers light as if he’s afraid Mac will break. And indeed, Mac feels like he might shatter under these careful hands. He tries to speak again, but this time the words get stuck for a whole other reason._

_Jack’s wrists are red, the rope burn even more evident against his pale skin. “Mac”, he whispers again, and it feels like he’s asking something, but Mac isn’t sure what._

_His partner’s hands trail up his neck and Mac is suddenly too aware of how hard his heart beats. It thunders in his chest, pulsing through his veins. There’s no doubt that Jack can feel it - his fingers rest against Mac’s arteria carotis communis, cool against Mac’s hot skin._

_Mac blinks and when he opens his eyes again, Jack’s mouth is on his neck._

_The gasp that leaves his mouth is both surprised and something way less innocent, and when he feels Jack’s hand in his hair, he lets him tip his head back._

_He’s not sure what’s happening, but it’s too hot, and Jack’s lips are almost cold as they’re brushing against his skin._

_The terror he felt before is gone, drowned out by the heat and Jack’s eyes and his cold skin. But the second he feels teeth pierce his skin, it all comes back to him. He gasps, a sound that sounds more like a moan than a complaint, and suddenly his hands are free._

_His brain tells him he should push Jack away, he should, really, letting him feed is a bad idea. Mac can’t remember why it is a bad idea._

_His hands don’t push Jack away. Instead, he fists a hand into Jack’s shirt, tugs him close. Jack makes a sound against his skin, and Mac feels light-headed and warm and safe._

_The arm sneaking around his waist suddenly pulls him forward and Mac finds himself in Jack’s lap, his partner’s teeth in his neck and his hands in his hair, and it feels like heaven._

_He shouldn’t, he shouldn’t, he shouldn’t, but he can’t stop himself. Jack is pressed up against him, and Mac rocks forward, his hands clinging to Jack’s shoulders, and-_

 

Mac gasps and sits up in bed. The bed sheets are too warm and too heavy and he can’t breathe - but that’s not the sheets fault. He kicks them off the bed anyway. The air is cool on his skin, almost cold. He wants to shower, kind of, but that would have to be a cold shower.

And that thought makes Mac’s stomach turn.

He’s sick. Something in his mind is twisted, wired the wrong way. He always knew it, but this, this just proves it. Why else would he dream about his best friend’s weakest moment like this? Like it’s- like it’s a turn-on. Like it’s somehow okay to think about him like that.

Twisting his hands in his hair, Mac tries to sort out the details of the dream - not that that is hard. The basic structure is the same, every single time. (Just thinking about how this is a _thing_ causes Mac’s insides to clench up.)

It’s Cairo, all over again, mixed with new memories and glimpses into the dark, twisted place Mac’s mind has become. (In reality, Mac had screamed for Jack. In the dreams, he never screams.)

After Cairo, Mac had thought it had been a one-time thing. Jack had bitten him, and Mac’s body had… reacted. Because that’s what adrenaline and having another human body so close does to a person, alright?

It quickly turned out that it was, in fact, not a one-time thing. The memory of that day still haunts Mac in his dreams. His head mixes the memory with more recent missions, twists it, bends it, adapts it. But the core always stays the same. And no matter what he does, Mac still wakes up like this - turned on, sick with guilt and shame. (Jack would hate him if he ever found out.)

Sighing, Mac leans back. He stares at the ceiling, wondering why he is like this. He can deal with his inappropriate attraction to his best friend. It sucks, but it’s okay. He absolutely _can’t_ deal with having a thing for said best friend feeding on him. That is just… wrong.

Especially since Jack doesn’t even like to eat in front of the team. He would never be okay with feeding on Mac, and no way in hell he’d be _interested_ in that.

With a groan, Mac closes his eyes. He is a terrible best friend and doesn’t deserve Jack. In other news - water is wet.


	2. ii.

Mac hasn’t dreamt about Cairo for a few nights now - but there is no relief in that. He’s been here before, he knows it won’t last. Without a doubt his mind will unravel again, will let the terrible desire back out. Mac isn’t ready for that - he never is. He never knows what his mind will come up with, what kind of memories it mixes together with Cairo. (Sometimes it’s pleasure all around. Sometimes it’s terror and Mac still wakes up aching for it. He hates those nights even more.)

Sometimes he isn’t in a desert, sometimes they are surrounded by ice and Jack’s skin burns against his, his fingers tracing veins and constellations into his skin. Sometimes the walls are hard concrete and Jack presses him against it, holds him up like Mac’s weight is nothing to him.

Mac is aware that dreams are a way of coping - his brain is working through his experiences, trying to make sense of them. He gets that. He _doesn’t_ get why the idea of being chained up doesn’t terrify him enough to wake up. (Deep down, he knows: it’s because Jack is there. It’s because _Jack_ is the one who has him chained up, the man he trusts more than life itself. He knows why it doesn’t bother him, but he is not willing to admit that yet.)

Trying to shake off the thoughts of Jack and being bitten and inappropriate dreams about his _best friend_ who is also his _co-worker_ , Mac starts making coffee.

There is something calming about going through the familiar motions, it requires no brain-power, it doesn’t lead to uncomfortable questions. It’s _easy_. It does mean, however, that his brain isn’t busy, and therefore able to jump around. It doesn’t take long for his brain to circle back to his partner - or does his brain even circle back?

Jack is always on his mind. Even when he’s doing something else, a part of his brain is always thinking about Jack, about what he’s doing, about his words, about his _everything_. It’s what makes them a good team - Mac can predict Jack like no-one else, and Jack can keep up with Mac, even while he’s protecting them.

And because he’s obsessive like that, Mac can’t stop thinking about Jack finding out about this. He knows the man better than maybe anyone else in the entire world - excluding Jack’s ma. She’s a terrifying woman and Mac wouldn’t dare to ever lie to her. She has this way of knowing - one look into her eyes and you’re spilling your secrets, promising to do better.

However, what he was actually thinking: Mac knows Jack, and Jack knows Mac. Jack can tell Mac is hiding something, but he’ll respect Mac’s need for privacy unless the secret interferes with the mission. Which it doesn’t, not yet, but Mac isn’t very confident that’s going to work forever.

So sometimes Mac allows himself to consider telling Jack. He tries to figure out how Jack would react, how he should broach the subject - but the whole thing gives him a headache. What is he even supposed to say? _I know it’s weird, but I’m really, really into you_ doesn’t seem like a good start. It’s true, but it’s like hitting someone with a brick. Most people are a little surprised by that. But Mac figures that _I dream about you drinking my blood and it’s not exactly a turn-off_ doesn’t really start the conversation either. (Maybe it does, for some people - but that’s not him.)

Mac would have to tell Jack that he’s in love with him, that he has a weird feeding kink, that he’s been harbouring these feelings for _years_ now, that he feels guilty about letting Jack be turned, but even worse about the fact that he simultaneously is just very, very into it.

This whole thing is like a Russian doll - it’s problems stacked within problems.

And as if all of that wasn’t enough, Jack has Riley. He has a daughter, and he’s six years older, and he’s his partner, goddamnit. Not to forget his huge extended family that will have Mac’s head if they ever find out, and Mac is so not looking forward to seeing them all again just because they want his blood. (Pun not intended.)

Whenever Mac lets himself think like that, lets himself imagine telling Jack, it always ends the same way: Jack rejects him. Mac isn’t sure how bad it would be - if he would just gently let him down, or if he would turn away in disgust. If he would leave, if he would cut Mac off. He knows Jack, and he knows his partner isn’t cruel, but Mac really can’t see how Jack would want him in his life after a confession like that. He wouldn’t want himself, either.

These thoughts really drag him down - he ends up sensitive and raw when he thinks about it too much. The days he lets himself think of it, Mac usually cries himself to sleep. He’ll sob into his pillow, letting his body shutter without shame. He _loves_ Jack. He loves him so, so much, but he’s not going to risk their partnership, their friendship for it. He can’t. The thought of losing Jack is worse than never having him.

Grabbing his favourite mug, Mac takes a deep breath. He will not cry about this before breakfast. It’s too early for a breakdown, and that’s not up for debate. The smell of coffee anchors him to reality, but he has a feeling he’ll end up crying about this at some point today. He just hopes it’s late at night when no-one sees him. When he can pretend he doesn’t cry about his stupid, unrequited crush, or at least try to forget about it by morning. (He never forgets.)

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to do something special for my 100th fic, so I finished this one. It was a lot of fun - very different from what I usually do. So happy 100th fic-day to me! ❤︎


End file.
